Beginning in the Name of God
by dreamsweetmydear
Summary: Tim has an interesting experience at his sister's apartment one evening. Written last fall for NFA's Road Less Traveled Challenge.


**From the author's desk:** This was written last fall for NFA's Road Less Traveled Challenge. I had a slightly different interpretation of the challenge, which was to get the characters out of the office and to other places. I thought, why not try something a little spiritual? This was the result.

This was inspired by something my own roommate said when she heard me recite the call to prayer aloud, and it came back to me when I was on the prayer mat the evening I wrote this and wouldn't leave me alone.

The title comes from the translation of the Arabic phrase "Bismillah arrahmaan arraheem," which translates to, "I begin by taking the name of Allah."

**Disclaimer:** _NCIS_ and its characters are the property of Donald P. Bellisario and his associates. This was written strictly for non-profitable purposes.

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_**Beginning in the Name of God**_**  
by **_**dreamsweetmydear**_

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Timothy McGee paced in the lobby of his sister's campus apartment building, wondering what errand Sarah must have had to run that she wasn't home. He glanced at his watch; if she didn't get back soon, and if she wasn't dressed already, they were going to miss their reservation.

It was her birthday, and he'd roped her into having a nice dinner with her older brother before she went out clubbing with her friends that night.

"Tim?"

He looked up in the direction of the voice calling his name, and smiled. "Hi Rashida."

Sarah's roommate smiled. "What are you doing down here? Don't you and Sarah have dinner plans tonight? I know a few of us are meeting her later. But she told me you guys are going to dinner."

"Yeah, we are. But she doesn't seem to be in. Knowing Sarah, she remembered something last minute, and ran out to go take care of it."

The younger woman smiled. "Pretty accurate, if you ask me. She's always running late. Why don't I sign you in? You can wait in our living room instead of down here. The lobby couches suck anyway."

He nodded. "Thanks, I appreciate it."

They took the elevator upstairs, chatting amicably about school. Rashida, like Sarah, was also majoring in literature, and the fact that the two girls were the same age made it easy to talk to the younger woman. Rashida had proven to be a very good friend to Sarah, especially when Sarah had been accused of killing that sailor, helping her get through the aftermath.

Sarah and Rashida's apartment may have been furnished by the university, but they had decorated the place themselves in a warm melding of India meets America, posters of Indian superstars side-by-side with American (and some British, as Sarah had a thing for both Colin Firth and Hugh Grant, and surprisingly all the Harry Potter boys), the entertainment unit overflowing with Bollywood and Hollywood movies alike, and the "no shoes indoors" policy emphasized by the compact and neat shoe rack by the door.

"Can I get you something to drink while you wait for her?" Rashida asked him.

"Oh no, that's okay. I'm sure Sarah'll be coming soon anyway."

Rashida nodded. "Okay. Anyway, make yourself at home. Watch some T.V. or something."

"Thanks Rashida."

"No problem!" she called as she slipped out of the living room into her room.

He'd just taken a seat in one of the armchairs when he heard a key in the lock. "Sorry I'm late Tim!" Sarah greeted him.

"Just go get dressed so we're not late for our reservation," he told her with a smile.

"Be out in twenty!" she called as she ran to her room to get dressed.

"Sure you will, sis," Tim muttered under his breath and shook his head. His sister's twenty minutes were thirty minutes for the rest of the world.

Taking a seat on the couch, he caught sight of one of his sister's textbooks—_The Norton Shakespeare_. Picking it up, he flipped through it, wanting to read Marc Antony's speech at Caesar's funeral; it was one of his favorite parts of _Julius Caesar_.

The apartment was quiet for the most part, and he was lost within the speech when his concentration was broken.

He heard Rashida's voice, loud and clear and melodious, ringing throughout the apartment, steady as she recited her call to prayer.

_"Allah-ho akbar, Allah-ho akbar. Ashhadoan la ilaha Illallah…"_

Tim listened intently, caught by the passion, the pride, and the warmth that flowed from her voice and into every crevice and corner of the apartment. The Arabic words were recited with a practiced grace that spoke volumes of how many times she'd given this call.

_"Haiyya al-alfalaah…"_

As a man of science, Tim was generally of the belief that everything had an explanation. And unfortunately, the things he saw on his job on a daily basis, all things that were the basest pieces of human existence, made it hard to believe that there was some all-knowing deity out there. And so he wasn't entirely sure if there was a God.

But at that moment, as he listened to his sister's roommate recite aloud in Arabic, Tim swore he felt something of a more spiritual nature. It was as if the apartment had been filled with some kind of ultra-pure energy, banishing bad vibes and exorcising evils from the home. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end his breath catch because of whatever this was coming through the apartment.

And as he said good-bye to Rashida as he and his sister left for dinner, Tim could see a kind of peace and brightness in her face that hadn't quite been as obvious to him before. When he told his sister about what he'd experienced, he'd expected her to laugh.

Instead, she'd admitted that she had a similar experience the first time she heard Rashida give the call to prayer aloud.

"She's been fasting the last few weeks because it's Ramadan. It's the holiest month in the Islamic calendar, since it's basically a whole month devoted to God. Maybe that's why what you felt was more powerful than what I did that time. Not to mention you see a lot of horrible things on a daily basis. I've probably just gotten used to hearing her recite it aloud, and so I don't feel its effect anymore," Sarah explained as she took a bite of her spinach gnocchi.

Eventually, brother and sister moved on to other topics of conversation, but the experience lingered at the back of Tim's mind for the rest of the night.

In the days following, Tim continued to face horrible things—greed, lust, death—and he would find himself once more wondering about, trying to reconcile the existence of a higher power when he saw things like murder on a daily basis. And then he would recall his experience at Sarah's apartment the night of her birthday, and it became easier to believe that maybe, just maybe there was someone up there pulling the strings, and maybe there was a reason behind it all.

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